By the time I reached the corridor, Ethan’s comments had faded into the background.
What stayed with me was Luka.
The way he checked who was listening before he spoke. The subjects he avoided. The instinctive caution woven through things most people never thought about.
I slowed.
If this ever became public, I wasn’t the one taking the larger risk.
The thought followed me all the way back to the Village.
My phone buzzed justas I arrivedat my room.
I glanced down while kicking the door shut behind me and saw my mom’s name flash across the screen.
Flights confirmed. We’ll be in Milan Monday morning. Hoping the jet lag disappears before Tuesday so we can actually function while watching you win gold.
A medal emoji followed. Then three grinning faces.
I dropped onto the bed and opened the photos she’d attached. Dad stood at the top of a ladder with a paint roller in one hand, scowling at wallpaper. The next picture showed him glaring at a crooked strip while Mom’s caption underneath read:Your father has declared war on the dining room.
I laughed.
Mom had wanted to hire decorators weeks ago. Dad had decided he could handle the entire renovation himself despite having the patience of a man built exclusively for outdoor projects and power tools.
Yeah. That tracked perfectly.
There was a knock at the door, and my heartbeat kicked hard enough to catch me off guard.
I didn’t need to check.
Luka stood in the hallway, his gaze flicking up and down the corridor.
I pulled him inside without a word and shut the door behind him just as my phone buzzed again.
“I am interrupting you.”
“No, you’re not.” I rested a hand on his shoulder, guiding him down onto the edge of the bed before sitting beside him. “Just my parents.” I showed him the photos, and he leaned in, studying them with more focus than I expected.
“They look… warm,” he said, his voice low.
“They are. You’ll get to meet them. They’ll be here Monday, in time for the short.”
He blinked. “You would introduce me to your parents?”
I frowned. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”
Luka stared at me for a long moment.
I bumped my knee against his. “Relax. I’m not planning on opening the conversation withhey Mom, hey Dad, this is the guy who keeps ruining my ability to think clearly.”
Color climbed into his cheeks.
God, that was cute.
“But I can tell them you’re my friend,” I said, quieter now. “Because you are.”
Except friend sounded way too small.
